


Seven Days in the Life of Mats Hummels

by Moonmoth



Category: Football RPF
Genre: 1. FC Köln, Borussia Dortmund, Bundesliga, FC Bayern München, M/M, hubotic, kinderriegel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 14:48:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7896811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonmoth/pseuds/Moonmoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The lovely <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/Contra/pseuds/Contra">Contra</a> wrote me a fic instead of a review: <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/7940464">Independence Day</a></p></blockquote>





	Seven Days in the Life of Mats Hummels

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Sieben Tage im Leben von Mats Hummels](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7896748) by [Moonmoth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonmoth/pseuds/Moonmoth). 



You’re 20 and very hungry, for success and your dad’s carbonara and the smooth skin of the boy with the challenge in his eyes.

 

You’re 30 and married and a father, living in your hometown again, and you insist you have no regrets. On the evening before a Champions League match in England you catch his figure on TV. You recognize the shape of his shoulders before his face comes into view.

 

You’re 40 and you think: Is this it? Is this my life? You see his picture in a newspaper, UNICEF goodwill ambassador, and he still hasn’t found someone to pick out a decent suit for him.

 

You’re 50 and your children have left the house, and now you’re alone with that stranger you married more than twenty years ago. One morning you step out the door and say ‘I love you’ into the sunrise and you don’t know who you mean.

 

You’re 60 and they keep assuring you that the club still needs you, but you know they are already looking for a successor. You fly to New York because you need a holiday and walk through the streets as if you’re looking for something.

 

You’re 70 and looking at old photographs. You have the exact same smile in all of them, and somehow that’s unbelievably sad. In one you look at him and you don’t smile and that’s when you recognize yourself.

 

You’re 80 and the world has become murky, but some images are getting clear again. The man with the narrow hips and the laughter in his voice, teasing you with his words and his fingertips. He’s very close now.

This time you won’t let him get away.

**Author's Note:**

> The lovely [Contra](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Contra/pseuds/Contra) wrote me a fic instead of a review: [Independence Day](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7940464)


End file.
